Reading real those memories within the pages
by Manibarilo
Summary: AU/AH - Jalec friendship with Malec romance. Jace Herondale is a reader. Every Saturday he goes to that same retirement house and reads for them. Yet there is that man, Mr. Lightwood, that never stays untill the end. How could Jace catch his attention? Fleeting slices of life, too real memories and fickle sheets may be the way to a friendship that will change Jace forever.
1. Chapter 1

**Idea that obsessed me. Not owning the characters. Quote from Brené Brown.**

* * *

Chapter 1: A challenge, a meeting and a deal

* * *

Jace Herondale was a reader.

Or that was what he answered when people, in a tentative way to be sympathetic, asked him what he does of his free time.

'' I read.'' he would say, no more, no less. Often enough, it would lead people to just shrug and leave him alone, not knowing what else to do.

They never questioned him on his reading.

There was more to that than just the leisure activity of grabbing a book and absorb every words with one's eyes. For him, it was more than a way to learn about new ideas. More than a way to evade the days' long seconds ticking by, the loneliness of his mind or his duty.

To read was an act of liberty.

Not only was he freeing his mind from the dull cage of the real world, he was freeing the words out of the books. Letters that were stuck within pages, only waiting to be read, could finally be released under the call of his voice as he read them alive. Words filled with emotions, words of imaginary and fiction, words meant to shock, words meant to inform, Jace loved them all.

But that was not what people saw when they could catch the sight of him sitting on some random bench, his lips silently wording and murmuring the text he was reading. They could only see a teenager who found people too boring and much rather spend the most of his time in the company of fictional characters. Most only knew of a sarcastic teenager that shut down with a superior look and a witty retort all those who dared disturb him of his activity.

Fortunately enough, there was a group of people who could see beyond the cover of Jace, and the teen saw them every week-end.

Saturday morning saw him packing a few random books from his shelves to his black bag, just like every week. And like every time, after having selected a few, his golden eyes went to the small box on one shelf. The same question as usual crossed his mind: should he bring it?

In that box, there were many loose sheets; handwritten pages. All from the same author, none following one another, as if they were remains of an old book – or many books - and they had been torn apart. Those pages in this box were only the rogue ones that had managed to escape, brought by the wind, and that Jace had collected. He didn't know where they came from, but when he had read them, there had been something so personal in those bits of writing that he wondered if one day he should free the words of the pages.

Every Saturday, Jace asked himself if he should bring the box, but always left it behind.

Not this Saturday.

The box safely placed in his bag, squeezed in between two books, he headed toward the Black Thorns Retirement Home, which was a couple of blocks away from his flat. 10 minutes 44 seconds, that was the time it took him, not that he had checked. The place was cozy, well kept and always smelled like lavender. The elderly here were quite polite, and always happy to see him. Especially since every Saturday, Jace came here to read.

In some kind of large lounge with old beaten but robust leather couches, equally old beaten, but robust people were sitting there, waiting. The Herondale boy, after he'd been greeted by the senior citizens, took his usual place in front of them. He sat on the chair placed there for him, opened his bag and tried to decided with what should he begin the reading out-loud session, when his eyes met the blue-eyed ones of an old man.

' _Ah, Mr. Lightwood is here_ _.'_ thought Jace with the same feeling one had facing a particularly hard challenge.

It was always the same, reading for the seniors pleasure or because they couldn't anymore, what with those with cataract-ridden eyes. What had started as community services – for some stupid fault at that – had became something enjoyable. Jace held respects for those people and they held true respect for him too. It was a relaxing and playful activity for both parties.

Until recently, or more exactly two months ago, when what would become Jace's challenge had arise.

There had been a man that started to come here, but that never stayed the whole time. At first, Jace thought it was because it wasn't the man's thing. It was okay, it was something that happened. But every time, the man came back and left after the second chapter,. Meaning that it had to be his thing, if he took the time to come. So maybe he was busy at the moments the teenager reached that day's story second chapter. Yet, one time, in between the second and third chapter, Jace went out to get himself some water and he saw him, the man that had left, sitting in another room, looking with a bored expression at the public tv!

He was into the reading session, not busy and clearly not enjoying the other activities, so his leaving could only mean one thing...

The man, Jace had managed to learn, was Mr. Lightwood. It was then that, for his pride and honour, the teenager had made it his challenge to manage to one day grab the man's attention.

Seeing him now, Jace had a boost of determination quickly followed by the low that the fear to fail again induced. On instinct, Jace grabbed the box he had brought. It was a shot in the dark, a sword thrust in the water, to hope that the box content could manage to grab his challenge's focus.

'' Okay, nice to have many of you here with me.'' started Jace, gaining most of the attention. '' Today, it is going to be a bit special. The story I'll begin with is short and not like most books, but I really wanted to try that. If it doesn't work, I have many more conventional books to choose from that we can read, alright?''

The blond received many excited nod, some indifferent shrugs and a curious glance from Mr. Lightwood. As usual, he was standing near the door, leaning on his can.

Nodding to himself, Jace opened the box and took the first pages.

* * *

 _September 22_ _nd_ _, 1946._

 _I had to admit that when we moved to America, I was really septic that it was truly for the best. After the_ _W_ _ar, everyone was wary of strangers, sometimes even of their own._ _But when my parent got the okay to immigrate, they seized_ _the chance, never mind that Indonesia was getting better with the Commonwealth_ _. A golden opportunity for us they said._

 _A_ _n opportunity that required us to give up everything, our friends, my_ _father'_ _s steady jobs, our house and even part of our culture. I'll miss Ragnor and Catarina. They said they would write, but it is not the same as having them here with me. I'll miss my room, it's ridiculous, but I got attached to that place. It was like a safe-heaven._ _I know I'll look ridiculous in school, learning to speak English better and not knowing anyone. And m_ _o_ _stly I know it will be hard for my father to find job as decent as what he had back home._

 _But I must say, as I am writing those words and can't help but glance at my curtain-less window (which has a view on our left neighbour), that I am happy to be here. No that's not true. It's not being here that I am happy, but having met him._

 _This morning, I was sitting on the porch (trying to catch up with my English actually). It was warm outside, and my mother was installing in the kitchen. The kitchen was her realm and one had to get out of her way if they didn't want to anger her. But that was her role as the mother, my role as the son was to study. But never mind my mother in the kitchen, the point was that I was outside when my neighbour from the left side got out._

'Agak banyak _' I would have said in my country,_

 _He has dark hair, piercing blue eyes, fair Caucasian skin. For a sixteen years old New Yorker, he was handsome all right. And angry too, if I could read the expression on his sharp features. Passing a hand trough his dark hair, he noticed me, but looked down._

 _Oh no, there is no way I was passing the chance to make my first friend here._

'' _Ello!'' I exclaimed, and I still cringe at the memory of my own accent and how I forgot the 'H'._

'' _Hi.'' he shyly said, looking back at me._

 _I got up, smiled at him and approached so I could shake his hand. Such was the proper etiquette._

'' _My name is Magnus.'' I managed to say without too much problem._

 _He shakes back my hand. '' Alec.''_

'' _I will be your new neighbour.'' I informed him, pulling at his hand to show him our house. Actually, it was more to get him away from his, but he didn't need to know that._

'' _Yes you are.'' he smiled at me, and I remember that I was glad that I could make him forget his anger. That is why I continued I suppose._

'' _I am trying to learn English because I start class next week. I will be going to St.-Raziel, are you there too?''_

'' _Yeah, I go there too.'' he said, losing his smile, nibbling his lower lip. '' Actually I have to go, I'll be late.''_

 _It is only then that I noticed how well dressed he was, with his white button up shirt and black pants, a dark tie and a fancy bag hanging on one shoulder._

 _(It reminds me that tomorrow I have to tell mother that I need to check the school's uniform.)_

 _I dropped his hand (that I still had in mine) to let him go and because I was just now remembering that Americans are sometimes fidgeting with contacts. '' Yes, sorry, I wouldn't want you to be late. I have a lot to learn anyways.''_

'' _No, no, it,s not your fault.'' he quickly reassured me. He grabbed his own hand (the own I had left) as if he was missing the contact. Or maybe that was what I hoped? I can't question that for now._

'' _If you want, I can help you with your English... If you want.'' he said, unaware of his redundancy._

 _His shy kindness was warming and I was glad he offered. That was why I said-_

* * *

Jace stopped his reading there, as he had reached the end of the page. The rest of that day's story was probably in the book that that page came from. He supposed Magnus had accepted Alec's offer. That was where it had seemed to go and it would fit with the other pieces he had in the box.

'' What did the stranger – Magnus was it? - said?'' asked someone in the front, breaking the silence that had settled.

'' I don't know, that is where this page stops.'' declared Jace.

'' Well, he seemed to be happy to make a new friend, he probably said yes.'' said an old lady in the back.

'' Do you have other slices of life like that?'' asked another one.

Jace was glad they seemed to enjoy. The ultimate test though, was when he raised his eyes to look at Mr. Lightwood.

Never would he have suspected what he saw.

The man seemed shock, his eyes wide and his lips parted in surprise. For the first time since Jace had seen him, he seemed to need to sit down, his legs giving up under his weight. Passing a hand through his white hair, the old man shook his head vehemently. He said something, but it was too low for Jace to understand through the ambient noise of people excitingly chatting. A tear fell from Mr. Lightwood's eyes and he fled the room.

That was not what Jace had wanted nor thought this small segment of Magnus story would have caused. A wave of guilt hit him, but confusion calmed it down. The old man was a piece of mystery and the teen just wanted to know more about him. Like a book in a foreign language, intriguing, promising, but also intricate as one felt frustrated in front of words unknown by them.

'' Well, I have also brought this book that I wanted to share.'' decided to answer Jace, as he made the mental note to go check on Mr. Lightwood later.

He got out the first book he found, and started to read it out loud.

Later that day, Jace went to the receptionist. Today, it was that pretty red headed girl with bright green eyes. Her tag name said 'Clary'.

'' Hi, Jace.'' she greeted.

'' Hey.'' he answered. She was a nice girl, and one of the few human beings he respected that weren't a senior. '' Can you tell me which room is Mr. Lightwood's?''

'' Sure, but I must warn you, he seemed... troubled earlier when he passed by.'' she said, looking up in her computer. When she got it, she turned her green worried gaze at him. '' He doesn't have a lot of visit, and I think maybe it gets at him. You'll be kind, right?''

Kindness like that always amazed Jace. He wasn't kind. He wasn't selfless. He would be, he would have probably left Mr. Lightwood alone.

But he couldn't.

So he stiffly nodded at her and headed toward the east aisle, where Clary had indicated him that room 19 was.

At the first knock, the blue-eyed old man opened.

'' I was waiting for you.'' he said as an introduction and invited Jace in.

He stayed silent then, so the teen took the time to look around. He loved the room. The walls were covered of book shelves. Actually, there was only a bed and a sofa, the rest of the furniture being the bookshelves. The strong aroma of paper and ink was filling the room. With the carpet covering the floor, the place screamed book-lover paradise. For a moment, Jace wondered who in their right mind would ever leave that place, especially if that person living their was retired.

Mr. Lightwood sat on the bed, slowly as his knees seemed stiff, leaving Jace the sofa. Only then did the old man broke the silence. '' Are you free on Sunday?''

That was unexpected. Jace didn't like, but also utterly enjoyed, that intricate way of thinking of that old man. With him, he felt like he was reading an unpredictable thriller. For weeks, the blond had tried to catch the man's attention, and when he managed, it caused him to cry. And now he was asking if the teen was free on Sunday.

Curious, Jace nodded.

The man nodded, passing a hand trough his paled by time hair. '' Would you mind doing private session of reading? Read to me and me alone those pages in your box?'' he asked, not looking at Jace, as if he was afraid of finding refusal.

'' You never stayed at any of my readings, but now you want a personal one?'' frowned Jace.

Truthfully, he wouldn't mind as he had nothing better to do on Sunday. But curiosity was getting the better of him and he just wanted to know more about this man.

M. Lightwood sighed before turning his vivid blue eyes at him. '' What you read every Saturday never really touches me enough to stay. I may have difficulties now and then, but I can read those stories just fine. It is a beautiful thing you are doing for us, but I need something exhilarating. And what you have brought in today... It awoke emotions that I had locked away.''

Jace nodded understanding. Some books or story did that to people. Some books hit the mark so well, almost touching the reader's soul, they changed something inside. The story didn't even need to be popular, it only needed the right reader. Didn't people say 'Vulnerability is the birthplace of innovation, creativity and change'?

The Herondale boy had waited for the right moment to release Magnus' words from the fickle sheets. Maybe now he had found the right listener for them in Mr. Lightwood?

'' I will do it.'' Jace said, opening the box and taking out the second page. '' i will come and read them for you every Sunday.''

* * *

 _December 15th, 1946_

 _-it was with such devastation._

 _I couldn't stand and do nothing._

 _I went away from the crowd and approached the player's bench were he sat. I took the small place there was between him and the end of the bench. I am thin, so I thought I could fit. And I did fit, but lets say I was just incredibly close to Alexander, our legs touching._

'' _You can't be here.'' he said, not looking away from the game where his teammates were losing._

'' _I can if the officials don't catch me, will you tell them?'' I told him, going for my charming teasing smile._

 _Alexander only glanced at me, shaking his head, before he glared at his joined hand in front of him._

 _I didn't like seeing him like that._

'' _Look at me.'' I ordered him._

 _He did._

'' _That jerk on the ice isn't half good as you.'' I informed him. I felt like he was underestimating himself._

'' _I know Magnus.'' he sighed, not reassured at all._

 _But it surprised me still. '' You know? Than why so sad?''_

'' _He is cheating, or half cheating, using the natural ice against us to... body check us.'' he said, passing a hand on his shoulder were he fell earlier._

 _Ever since Alexander tutored me in English, I had gotten better and better. I was not only able to have a much less pronounced accent, but also able to understand people when they spoke. Because two Americans speaking to each other was tremendously different from an American speaking to me alone. But right now, even though all the progress, I had no idea what 'body check' meant._

 _I think it was quite apparent that I was confused, because Alexander said: '' It's what pushing down the other is called.''_

 _Well, one never cease to learn._

'' _Eye for eye, tooth for tooth, such a brutal thing is oki.'' I said, trying to be poetic._

 _It didn't work._

'' _What?'' he asked frowning._

'' _That.'' I said, pointing to the ice where they were playing._

 _Understanding, he nodded and proceed to correct me: '' Hockey.''_

 _Usually, I am very grateful for when he does that, but at that moment, my pronunciation of how that sport is called was the less of my concern. '' The point is, if he uses his eyes to get back at you, do the same to him.''_

'' _What do you mean?'' whispered conspiratorially Alexander, turning his attention to the ice._

 _I bent forward and pointed at the jerk who had pushed down my friend. '' Look there, at his left reflexes.''_

'' _They are slower.'' he realized after a few seconds._

'' _I told you he is not half as good as you.'' I smiled. I could see his hurt pride dissipating and his fighting spirit return._

'' _You really think that?'' he said, turning back to me, a slight flush on the cheeks, though maybe it was due to the cold._

 _We were so close already, him turning had just seemed to emphasis that._

'' _Of course, do you think I come look at oki games for the pleasure of it? I could be home, warm and drinking hot cocoa right now.'' I told him, trying my best to insinuate that it was for him that I came._

 _And it was true, I really did struggle to get out and come here._

'' _But you came.'' he whispered, his voice a mixture of fear and joy. Like Alexander was both happy and afraid of our closeness. We are close, I want to believe that there is a closeness to be afraid or happy about. I never know with him though. I used to be a proud people reader, great at comprehending their feelings, but with him, I was always wondering._

 _Though if there is one thing I had noticed, it was that when in public like that, he never felt good with our chemistry. So I took the safe way, not wanting him to disappear on me again (Note to self: read the event of the art class room)._

'' _Yes, well I am no liar. I never lied about my name.'' I teased, but winked._

'' _Hey, I never lied about my name!'' he protested offended, but smiling still._

'' _You told me you were called Alec.'' I reminded him_

'' _It's my nickname, that's how my friends call me.'' Alexander said, not for the first time._

'' _But it isn't your name.'' I said and he rolled his eyes with amusement._

 _Right then, one of his teammate came to the bench to switch place. He got up, grabbing his stick. I heard him whisper: '' Here I go now.''_

 _And he went._

 _Getting up, I returned to my place so I could see better what he would do. Swift on his skate, he had an angelic grace on the ice. It was hard to believe that the same boy could be such a clumsy mess on the steady ground. Quickly he got the hockey puck and guided it toward the nets._

 _At the defence was the boy that had tripped him earlier. But it didn't happen again. Alexander learned. He went to the guy's left side, threw the puck before him and accelerate to pass by the other._

 _And then, just as I was thinking that he was going to fast to really aimed, he shot and scored!_

 _I am so proud of that boy._

 _After the game, and after having shook hand with the other team, he came to me all smile. What he did next surprised me, as he grabbed me into a hug. It was warm his embrace and I was feeling my heart beat increase. Even now, writing about it I feel all warm inside and it's like my inside were clenching in excited expectation._

 _How could he do that to me?_

 _Why do I like that?_

 _The embrace didn't last long though, as he quickly took a step back and glanced around. It wasn't a 'normal' behaviour, to hug other men like that, and he was surely anxious someone saw us._

 _Reassured, Alexander then smiled to me. '' Thanks, I wouldn't have been able to do it without you.''_

 _That smile, it was impossible to avoid, made me smile too._

* * *

When Jace placed back the sheet, he felt like he had to go. Mr. Lightwood had other tears in his eyes and he looked like he was fighting them.

'' I'll come back tomorrow. Same time as today, alright?'' said Jace, not comfortable seeing an old man in such state.

The man grabbed his wrist before he could leave. '' Thank you.'' he said, managing an honest smile.

On his way back, Jace could almost understand how Magnus had felt. He too hadn't been able to not smile back at those kind of honestly grateful smiles, even though he also felt like he didn't deserve it.

Still, Jace looked forward tomorrow, to the start of a new releasing words session and maybe a chance to befriend the man.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you Jupanuma and The High Warlock of Glitter for your reviews and support on this first chapter. I hope you enjoy this one too.**

 **On a side note, I have a mea culpa: when I wrote M. Lightwood, I had meant to write Mr. Lightwood. It is just that in French, 'mister' is not shortened the same way than in English. It has been corrected.**

* * *

Chapter 2: A home, a misfit and the past

* * *

Coming back home, Jace crashed on a sofa in the living room. He still couldn't believe it. He was kind of proud.

Mr. Lightwood, the man that never stayed during his reading session, wanted private ones now. Even better, Jace had found someone who could be touched by Magnus' story. Someone to whom he could read the fickle pages and release the words out. The right reader for the sparse story.

Getting out the box with the pages and the books he had brought, Jace got up and started to place them in his bookshelf. He brushed the covers delicately. Sometimes, the golden eyed young man wondered why he cared so much. 'T _hey are only books, right?_ ' he thought with shivers of disagreement. He, for one, did not have a lot of empathy, but somehow, when he read, it was the only time he could truly care. Whether he was alone or reading to a stranger, its only in a word induced world that he could connect with the characters of the books, the person he was reading to, or even himself.

Interrupting his musing, he heard the door open. Quick glances at the clock told him it was 4'O clock, which meant it was the youngest of his foster guardians. The man's appearance was betraying his Chinese legacy, which made it obvious for most that Jace was not his blood related family. And because he was only in his mid-thirties, most always thought he was his cousin or something.

But truth had its way to be complicated, yet so simple at the same time.

" Hi Jem!" exclaimed Jace over his shoulder before returning to his cleaning. Now that everything was placed, he needed to dust off the shelves.

" Hey, kiddo. Is Will home yet?" asked Jem as he entered the room.

The 'kiddo' aged of seventeen years absolutely hated being called that way by a man who was barely twice his age now.

" If I recall correctly, he said just yesterday that he had the evening shift today and would be back at 9, Mr Carstairs." Replied the blond as nonchalantly as he could.

"Mr. Carstairs?" frowned Jem, not used to such a formal tone.

Jace smirked, victorious. " Oh, I am so sorry, Jem. It's just that at the retirement house, they teach me to respect the senior citizens."

With an exaggerated gasp, the older of the two grabbed a pillow on the couch and threw it at Jace. Quickly the latter caught it. His mistake was to throw it back, amused.

" Alright, alright. I got the message." surrendered Jem already, laughing. " So, how was your day? Went at that retirement house again?"

" As usual." shrugged Jace, focusing on his task and trying to ignore the other.

Quickly the amusing feeling had left them. He didn't like it, when Jem was trying to get close to him and just chat. He didn't like it because he would truly like it to get to know the men too. The golden-eyed young man didn't have a cold-heart. But getting to know meant attachment, attachment meant caring and to care only made it harder when time came for Jace to leave the house. When time came to say goodbye and leave. When time came for separation.

'' You read to those old people, right? One of our books?'' tried again his foster guardian.

But the only answer he got was. '' Yeah.''

Separation was ineluctable.

"Okay." sighed in displeased resignation Jem, dropping the subject. " I am making some noodles for dinner, would you like that?"

" Okay." Simply replied the blond.

He wasn't difficult, nor obnoxious. Jace just didn't make it easy to approach him on a personal level, to his guardians' great dam. After three months, they still didn't know that he didn't really like noodles.

Jace was very careful to avoid Jem the rest of the time or only to answer with jokes and short reply his questions at diner time. That was until Will came back. Now, Will was his other guardian, as him and Jem had wanted to have a foster home. Things were that as an openly gay couple, the state had their doubts. Wrongfully so, but still they didn't have any wards. Except one: Jace. When they met, since it turned out that Will was a far away relative, the state accepted his request to have the golden-eyed young man at their place.

For now.

" I have received news from your social worker, Jace." happily announced Will when he arrived. He gave a quick kiss to Jem before looking back at them, his blue eyes gleaming as if he was bringing good news.

But the blond suspected what she might have told him, and if he was right, it wasn't any good news. Not for Jace. It was soon that moment when every others houses, every other guardians he had, abandoned him. The three months evaluation meeting. Just the thought of that meeting stressed him.

" What is it?" still asked Jace, not raising his head from the book on his laps, but unable to find comforts in words anymore.

" In two weeks, we have that evaluation meeting. You know, the one where the social worker takes in what we have to say on our dynamic and how you adjust. They can see whether you fit here or not." announced Will, sharing a glance with Jem.

They did that sometimes, like communicating in silence. Maybe there was a bit of paranoia in the young-man's interpretation, but he was pretty sure his guardians were asking each other ' _should we tell him?_ ' It did nothing to help the anxious feeling he had.

' _Should we tell him that we don't think he should stay?'_ feared the blond.

'' That's all?'' wondered Jace closing his book. When they didn't answered, he got his answer. '' I'll go to bed then. Tomorrow I have a private session at the retirement house, so don't expect me here for lunch.''

'' Wait, Jace, already? What private session, a reading? With whom?'' interrogated Will, which considering his job as a police officer, was a professional deformation.

Not replying, fearing his voice might not be even, the golden-eyed young man made his way up to his room.

* * *

Drama at a retirement home was not what Jace would have thought.

By drama he did not mean tragedy. That was not only expected, but sad. No, by drama, he meant that assembly of old people – mostly ladies - gathered around the counter in the main hall. They all seemed a bit distressed and angry at the manager. And from what he could get, the manager didn't seem to want to do anything about their problem.

Away from that group, leaning on a wall, looking at the ordeal, there was Mr. Lightwood. Jace approached him and casually leaned on the wall too.

'' Good morning. So, what is going on here?'' asked the blond.

By now the manager had left, pretending to have much more important business to attend to. No matter what the issue was, the people here thought it was important, and Jace believed the administration should not overlook it. It seemed unfair.

'' They moved the puzzle tables upstairs, and some people are too physically weak to get up the stairs for them. And since there aren't a lot of hobbies here, they are mad and want the owner to get them back down.'' sighed Mr. Lightwood, straightening up with a bit of difficulties. '' Come.''

Intrigued, Jace followed the old man. They headed upstairs where the infamous puzzle tables were. Mr. Lightwood grabbed a side of the table, and sent his inquiring blue eyes toward his companion.

'' A little help?'' he said.

Nodding, Jace understood what the older one wanted to do. If higher ups wouldn't put the time and energy to get the tables down, then he would with Jace's help. Repair themselves the mistakes done unfairly. The golden-eyed young man agreed with that kind of thinking.

It took three trips back and forth the stairs, and they even lost some puzzle pieces, but in the end the tables were back down.

Before anyone could talk to him, Mr. Lightwood shied away toward his room.

' _What a nice man.'_ thought Jace, glad he had help him get the tables back down.

Jace was about to follow him when a couple came to him. A lady with short white hair pushing around a man in a wheel chair. She said: '' Thank you, young man. My husband and I really enjoy those, but with his condition, it was impossible for us to continue our puzzle hobby.''

It was like for those two, Jace had become the hero of the hour. Wasn't that too much? Still, it pleased him a bit, that recognition.

'' It was nothing.'' he dismissed. ''I wasn't alone, anyway.''

'' Well, thank you.'' she still said before leaving him and rolling her husband to the first puzzle table.

Quickly, Jace made his way to room 19 – Mr. Lightwood's room. The blue-eyed old man was there waiting for him. The only difference from yesterday was the two chairs he had placed. One was near the window that was filtering the golden rays of the sun, the other a bit farther. Obviously the former was for Jace, the reader.

'' Is it always so lively here?'' smirked Jace, taking place on the chair set for him.

While he was taking out the box with the loose pages – Magnus' story – Mr. Lightwood answered him. '' No, it is quite boring here. There are small problems from times to times, but...''

Jace had the impression that the end of the sentence was 'nothing exciting'. Was the man bored? Was that why he enjoyed those bits of Magnus' story? Because it was different? Never completed, just enough to hint at the life the protagonist had?

Possibly.

'' Oh and here.'' said Mr. Lightwood, getting out some money and presenting it to Jace. '' I realize that you don't have to do this, but you still came. And well, since you are here I thought that-''

' _Is he blushing?'_ analyzed the golden-eyed young man. The man really was shy. He looked at what was presented to him: a twenty dollars.

'' No.'' declined Jace, getting out a page already. '' I don't need it, and it is not for money that do this.'' He interrupted himself, thinking better than to admit he had wanted to catch the elder's attention since a while. '' It gets me out of our house, so it's good for me.'' he decided to say as justification.

It was the truth in any cases.

A part of him was glad that Mr. Lightwood did not ask any thing on that, as he didn't really want to talk about his situation. Another part was also a bit regretting that he couldn't tell the other more. But Mr. Lightwood looked awkward just waiting in silence.

Instead, Jace raised the pages and started to read.

* * *

 _December 21st, 1946_

 _Something incredible happened today._

 _And I am not talking about my last exam for the year. Yes I've finished! And even if it was English, all those hours studying with Alexander really did pay off._

 _Note to self: NEVER show him those bits I wrote where I doubt myself after his studies. He would totally blame himself while it is just my self-esteem that was lacking in that department. Lows happen even to the best._

 _Anyway, the incredible thing._

 _It started when we were walking back to our respective homes from school. I think I spoke the whole way about how happy (and grateful to him!) I was for the exam. I am pretty sure I was excessive enough to make him embarrassed, which if I was honest was kind of my goal. Those red cheeks were just too much fun._

 _Why do I think that way about him? He is my best (and only) friend, so of course I care about him. But why do I feel all stressed and happy at the same time? Both when I was walking back home with him, or now thinking about when I was walking back home with him._

 _Then after supper with the family, Alexander came by to my house so we could hang_ _in my room like every day_ _after school_ _. We talked about our plan for the_ _winter vacations_ _and apparently he is going to the countryside_ _with his family_ _for Christmas_ _._ _It was a tradition apparently._

 _I already know_ _my holidays_ _are going to be long here. When my parent moved, no one from our old lives followed. It is the first time I will be a_ _l_ _one without friends or family aroun_ _d_ _._ _Only my parents and I in a_ _time_ _that wants us to take time for our family and friends at this time of the_ _year_ _._

 _Wow that's... not that exciting._

 _So I told him about that, and how lonely I was dreading this end of year to be._

'' _But you still have your parents around?'' Alexander asked._

'' _Yeah, but only them. Sometimes I miss my old friends. Ragnor, Catarina. I fitted with them. Here I don't fit.'' I admitted._

 _He was quick to deny my words. '' Of course you do.''_

'' _Alexander, you don't understand.''_ _I told him trying to explain my poi_ _n_ _t of view. ''_ _I am the foreign kid. They all think I am Chinese at school._ _(That 'Chinese' thing offends me to no end, but I didn't tell him that.)_ _I am the one odd out and I am aware of it all the time._ _''_

'' _I understand what you mean. The one odd out. But it isn't_ _l_ _ike you were a stranger among your family. You said it, you are new. Give yourself time to adapt and others to understand that boarders are opening.''_

 _I still don't know what he means by ' it isn't like you were a stranger in your family'. And I am ashamed to say I was a bit too wrapped in my brooding to ask him about it._

'' _You are right. I really should stop feeling like that. It is a bad omen for the New Year to start of with negative_ _thoughts. I_ _am not alone.'_ _'_ _I said, to which he replied:_

'' _You are not.'' he confirmed before fishing something out of his pocket._ _He said those precious words that I absolutely need to quote:_ _'' I won't be here, so here is a little something... Kind of a reminder that you have someone here. Me.''_

 _I noticed his nervousness and how he repeated three times 'here', but it didn't mat_ _t_ _er._ _That what was so incredible._ _I have someone here. Him._ _Just that did something to me. I wasn't used to have someone so considerate,_ _much less someone who dared tell me_ _._

 _Then,_ _Alexander blushed again and added. '' You know as a friend.''_

 _Sure as a friend, why would he need to specify?_

 _The gift that wa_ _s folded_ _in_ _an handkerchief was a_ _simple leather_ _bracelet_ _._ _Something I could wear everyday, that fits everything, and that is kind of discreet. I love it._

 _I had to reciprocate, as_ _a way to confirm that I feel the same way._ _It was only good manner and I kind of wanted him to have something of mine he could have too, to think of me when he would be away._

 _I looked into his deep pretty blue eyes and_ _an idea struck me._

 _I quickly got up and got from my wardrobe a blue scarf. '' That scarf I used to wear all the time during the rain season back home. With winter here in New York, I think you could use it too.''_

 _Alexander, ever the gentleman, tried to protest. '' I can't accept it. It is yours.''_

'' _Not anymore, it is a gif_ _t_ _. Something you can wear too, while away or here. And it fits you.'' I insisted, placing it around his neck. It really did fit him._ _I was glad he had it._

 _The rest of the evening, we played cards while talking about the usual-_

* * *

The page was torn here, and Jace stopped reading.

He knew the point of that entry was Magnus and Alec bonding together. But there were some words that that Alexander had said that had struck with Jace. ' _The one odd out. But it isn't_ _l_ _ike you were a stranger among your family.'_

Was that how Alec had felt, when he had told those words to Magnus? Like he was a stranger among his family? Why? No matter the reason, Jace could understand those feelings. He always felt like the one odd out. Well actually, he was the one odd out, going from foster family to foster family like that.

Great, the only other that could understand lived in 1946.

'' The one odd out.'' whispered Mr. Lightwood, looking straight in front of him. It was as if he had read Jace's thoughts. He didn't let it destabilize him though. Mind reading was impossible, he knew it. It was just a coincidence or the feeling echoed in him too.

'' Have you ever felt like that, Mr. Lightwood?'' wondered Jace.

'' oh yes.'' scoffed the blue-eyed young man. Then he smiled down at his left hand. He glanced at the old man's left hand and saw a band on the second to last finger. '' Though at one point, when I thought I would always be alone, always be a misfit, I met someone.''

'' Isn't it a bit cliché?'' teased Jace, taking a new page out.

He almost felt disappointed about that. Not that he was unhappy the older got to find someone who shared the loneliness with him. It was just that Jace would have rather been told that this feeling disappeared on its own.

'' Maybe.'' sighed Mr. Lightwood, looking at Jace. '' But even then, it was because of someone I just randomly met whom decided I was worth their time, that I had a family. If our lives had never crossed paths...''

Jace was surprised by how those words echoed in him. Strangers that entered one's life to create familiarity. According to Mr. Lightwood, it was possible. Maybe that was how friendship, and love worked. Jace couldn't help but hope a bit that it was possible, and that maybe some strangers would one day let him stay.

'' You talk to the past, Mr. Lightwood.'' noticed the frowning golden-eyed one.

'' Do you mind reading another part?'' asked Mr. Lightwood, changing subject.

'' Way ahead of you.'' said the blond, smirking as he showed the new page he had taken. Jace got the message, no more talking about family.

* * *

 _January 7_ _th_ _, 1947_

 _I have received some postcards today! Coming from my friends who stayed back home, I have to make at least a translated copy here._

Magnus,

After three months, I am starting to miss you. Maybe your out of the box manners were a breeze of fresh air. I hope your bright energy will not lessen, do write us a bit more.

Happy New Year.

Catarina

 _Aw, my cold friend Catarina. She always had that cool and no nonsense feel, but I knew (okay, more like hoped) my warm personality had touched her. Still, it was always pleasant to read that one had not been forgotten, even if at the other end of the world._

 _And my oldest friend Ragnor too, had sent me a card in his tiny I-have-to-cramp-everything writing._

Hey Magnus,

Well, Jakarta is not the same without you. The Dutch left, I can actually walk in the neighbourhood without someone shouting at me about some kind of prank ''we'' did and I don't seem to have that perpetual headache anymore. So yes it is incredibly boring.

I miss you alright, but I still wish you the best for this New Year.

Don't forget to write.

(I can't believe I am signing this)

Your friend, the 'cabbage prince' Ragnor.

 _Reading that warmed my heart, but also worried me a bit. Have I been so busy with daily life, learning English, hanging with Alexander,_ _starting piano lessons with my father_ _that I had forgotten to write to my friends? I record here all my days, so it is easy to forget at times..._

 _Okay, it is decided I am going to write them a letter to take and give news at least once a month. It is not distance that is going to rid me of my friends, that is my additional New Year resolution._

 _January 8_ _th_ _, 1947_

 _It is-_

* * *

Again, the torn ending blocked Jace from reading the entry furthermore.

'' Well, that was a boring entry.'' he declared, discarding the page and fishing out another one.

'' No it wasn't.'' protested Mr. Lightwood, not pleased.

Jace frowned, not understanding. '' But nothing happens here.''

'' Plenty happens here. It's in the details. We just learned that the Dutch left Indonesia, making them independent. We learned that he missed his friends and is not in contact with them. We learned that Magnus started to play piano with his father that year. '' enumerated the man. '' I want to know everything about him.''

He said those last words with such despair, Jace wondered why it would be so important to him. Even better, why had this particular story caught Mr. Lightwood's attention. Hypothesis started to form in Jace's mind, but he didn't have enough information to really have some serious guesses.

'' Why do you want to know so much about him?'' asked the younger one, looking carefully at Mr. Lightwood.

The old man looked like he wondered what to say. For Jace, it was as plain as day in the others' body language: a hand passed through his white locks,furrowed eyebrows and blue eyes steady but unfocused as Mr. Lightwood was lost in his mind. Did he even know why he was so interested in Magnus' life or was he just wondering if he could tell Jace his reasons?

'' Because it is important to me.'' finally let out Mr. Lightwood with a sigh.

'' Okay.'' nodded Jace. He knew it was the truth, but now he also knew Mr. Lightwood was hiding his reasons. Out of timidity maybe? From what he saw of the old man, that would not surprise Jace. '' Let's continue, shall we?''

* * *

 _February 2_ _nd_ _, 1947_

 _-_ _and it reminded me that I would have to be careful for now on._

 _After my detention that evening, I decided that I would take the city bus to get back home. Alexander wasn't there with me._ _I hated that his presence ha served as some kind of shield against others' prejudice. I wasn't a damsel in distress._ _I knew he wasn't seeing me that way, he probably wasn't even aware that just his mere friendliness and presence had prevented bullies to take me as a target. It still made me feel powerless that I needed him around if I wanted to walk the street safely._

 _Yet n_ _ow that I knew that most perceived me as a man of colour_ _and that some thought America should have never reopened its border to Asia_ _ns_ _, I wanted to keep low profile._

 _Admittedly_ _, it was_ _as cold as a fridge_ _outside too (seriously, would winter never stop here?)_

 _The bus had clear (and discriminatory) rules. I had to sit in the back and speak to no Whites._ _I hated the bus, but still I considered it safer than walking outside at dus_ _k_ _all by myself._ _Stuyvesant Town, our neighbourhood, wasn't too far anyway._

 _Now I keep talking about this bus ride because the strangest of coincidence happened. As my stop was the next one, I was readying myself to leave when the bus stopped and Alexander entered._ _Sitting in the front row, he hadn't noticed me, but it was definitively him._ _What would he be doing in the bus at that time of the day on a school day? We live near here, he didn't need the bus. Was he going elsewhere? If yes, where?_

 _For some reasons, I kept thinking:_ _Was he meeting someone special?_

 _All those question_ _s_ _made me miss my stop._ _So instead of stopping a bit farther and backtrack, I did like any_ _reasonable_ _person_ _would: I stayed to follow Alec._

 _But as soon as I had taken that decision, I felt guilty. I thought to myself that it was stupid. My friend could go anywhere, he didn't have to tell me where he was going._ _I didn't want to be reduced as a stalker._

 _He stopped near Brooklyn bridge and I didn't._ _I saw his silhouette running down toward the river,_ _as if heading under_ _the bridge._ _I continued until the bus brought me close enough to my home._

 _..._

 _So it most be like_ _10:47 pm_ _right now, but flashes of blue and red woke me up._ _Looking outside I saw a policeman dragging out of his car a young man with unruly dark hair falling down his face as he bent his head in_ _embarrassment._ _No. Impossible._

 _It was Alexander._

 _What was happening? Alexander_ _was_ _the good never-breaking-any-rules boy that was always on time in our classes and that never dared even imagine hanging around people that would not be a good influence._ _Still,_ _THAT Alexander was being escorted back home by the police?_

 _Now I_ _was_ _feeling guilty for not_ _following_ _him at Brooklyn Bridge_ _earlier today_ _._

 _Opening my window, I let the cold breeze bring in my room the words that were exchange between Alexander's parents and the police officer._ _The words were indistinct, but I think 'graffiti' and 'bridge' and 'sorry' were repeated often._

 _Closing the window, I sat on my bed for a while, trying to piece it together. A graffiti had been made on Brooklyn bridge by no one else than Alexander, that was the only logical conclusion. But it didn't add up with what I knew of him._

 _My dearest friend, I was worried for him. What could have made him do this? Why was I so worried? It was just a graffiti, a way to express oneself. I was all for that. If it was Ragnor, I would have rolled my eyes and return back to sleep._

 _But with Alexander, my feelings were... different._

* * *

Silence as Jace finished the page.

So much was going on in his head right now. He knew how it felt to be escorted back somewhere by the police. Like guilt and shame were a heavy weight in his stomach. Especially when it was for a misunderstanding, in those cases, there was also a bit of indignation in the mix. Everyone would just talk about that fault you apparently made and you were guilty no matter what.

' _Did Alec feel the same way?'_ thought Jace as a wave of empathy seized him.

'' I wonder if the graffiti is still there.'' muttered Mr. Lightwood, contemplative.

He probably hadn't meant that as a suggestion, but that was how the golden-eyed young man took it. Maybe there was a way to not only prove that those pages were from a real journal, but that Alec and Magnus existed. That they were real people with real feelings that marked this world.

Out of the pages.

'' We could go see if it is still there.'' said Jace, feeling like yes, he wanted to go look for it.

'' What? Why? No, it's probably not even there anymore.'' protested quickly Mr. Lightwood.

Jace got up, enthusiastically gathering his stuff. Then he looked with his pleading eyes back to the old man. '' Please, let's go see. You said it was important to you to know what happened to Magnus, but Alec is part of Magnus' life. Let's go look for it.''

'' You really want to do this?'' hesitated the old man, not moving.

'' Yes, and if you don't want to, it's fine, I'll go alone.'' said Jace, offering the man an exit route. He really didn't want to be alone, but he couldn't force somebody his presence or his eccentric activities.

Yet he was relieved when he saw the other slowly getting up on his weak knees. He grabbed his cane, a blue scarf and a fedora. It was spring and still a bit fresh outside after all.

'' Who said I wasn't coming? Let's go.'' grumbled Mr. Lightwood, opening the door.

* * *

With today's public transportation, moving across the island was easy. Manhattan to Brooklyn Bridge took about half an hour. Walking down from the busy road to the first pillar in the water – the one closest to the shore – was another story. Jace thought it must have been a bit more easier to access in the forties.

Or Alec had been incredibly determined that no one finds it.

Still, after helping Mr. Lightwood down, Jace started to scrutinize the pillar. Lucky for them the tide was low right now, otherwise they would have water to the hip.

Looking brick by brick, Jace was starting to think he would not find it – or not recognize it, he didn't even know what to look for – when he noticed that Mr. Lightwood was immobile. He was looking at something. His shining blues eyes were dark and nostalgic a bit. Getting close to him, Jace noticed words written with a black marker. And then initials with a date.

'' You found it.'' marvelled Jace, reading the words.

 _Difference is a woman that dances in my mind_

 _She is the only solution I can find_

 _Against her my heart fought_

 _And still under his charm I got caught_

 _\- A. L. 1 47_

That black marker had faded a bit with time, but it was still there. Quite clear too, only the date was covered by an other drawing. But they didn't needed it. In 1947, sixty nine years and three months ago, a young man with distress at heart came here to free that pain.

Jace admired that. '' He is a poet.'' he said with a smile.

'' One poem doesn't make you a poet.'' sighed Mr. Lightwood, hands in his pockets. He didn't look at ease here.

'' Yet one crime makes you a criminal.'' argued Jace. '' Every time someone makes something good once, they somehow refuse to take credit for it. Even if Alec doesn't end up a writer or a poet in his work, it wouldn't matter because here is the proof that he was a poet. Sometimes.''

'' And what does that poem tell you, young reader.'' indulged Mr. Lightwood, his eyes steady on the graffiti.

'' It tells me that he was in love with another guy, and didn't know how to deal with it.'' stated Jace, sure of himself.

Mr. Lightwood looked a bit more at ease, but still he asked: '' And you don't mind?'' asked the old man, looking at Jace with worried but happy eyes.

Had he been worried that he was an homophobic person?

'' Of course not.'' declared the golden-eyed young man. Then an idea formed in his mind. '' Mr. Lightwood, you know what we could do? Every time a place or something that still exist is mentioned in the remains of Magnus' journal, we should go look for it.''

'' Like a journey to the past?'' asked the blue-eyed old man, eyebrows raised in surprise and his voice a bit shaky.

'' Yeah, I could come by after school and read a bit before going back to my house instead of waiting for weekends. I only have two weeks before moving anyway. What do you say?'' suggested the blond, a hopeful smirk on his lips.

'' We could.'' agreed Mr. Lightwood with a soft smile.


End file.
